Phases
by Murder-chan
Summary: At an ultra-private school in northern Italy, Bel and Mammon struggle to get through their lives without the mafia, and with a billion not-very-normal problems threatening to shoot through the roof. But they don't know that yet.
1. BELPHEGOR

When Mammon got this way, it covered the wallpaper of Bel's mind (firmly recognized by everyone ever as a Victorian styled brick house after several incidents that were – each and every one of them – entirely Mammon's fault) with hendiadyses like "manic and hungry", or "feverish and stretched". A few times it would even come up with something absurdly far reaching, like "electric and petrified", trying to categorize him but never quite succeeding.

It was a lot easier to just say that when Mammon got this way, no one had any say in any matters at all. Bel could feel the heat of Mammon's fingers through the blanket, and that was as much of a giveaway as his eyes would have been, if Bel could see his eyes. At least they weren't glowing yet. That was a relief.

"We have to go," he said, breath warm and moist against Bel's face, "We have to get a car."

It was a mystery to Bel why Mammon needed him to drive. The other boy, while shorter and thinner and easy enough to throw over his shoulder, was still a good two years older than him, and it was perfectly reasonable to assume that he'd have experience. Then again, considering how often Mammon driving resulted in breaking speed limits and occasionally going off the road, it wasn't all that surprising.

"Why?" Bel asked, groggily, as his hand groped at his nightstand, finding the clock – Mammon's clock – and turning it so he could read it. 2:33. It was not time to be up yet. Mammon hesitated, hands resting lightly on Bel's chest, arms tense, like a cat in the presence of something even its enhanced senses couldn't explain.

"Mu~ We have to get a car," he said, after a moment. Bel took that to mean Mammon didn't have any more of an idea than he did, and turned his head, looking through the darkness towards his roommate as his roommate turned, pushing himself away from the bed and patting towards the door. Bel groaned, and rolled out of bed after him.

"I'm murdering you if we get caught," he said, baring his teeth at the boy's back. His comment wasn't enough to get a response, but that wasn't surprising. Mammon was a quiet kid, someone Bel might have just ignored at his old school, before he was separated from Siel and he needed the quiet to keep his head from ringing. Now he realized he just kind of liked the quiet, in general.

Not just Mammon's quiet, either. The quiet that seeped through the hallway was just as soothing, and almost empowering. When it was just him, he didn't have to work harder to overcome everyone else's noise. Bel's grin felt more natural as he started waking up a little more, and he took a few larger steps to get abreast to Mammon.

"Where are we driving to?" he asked, slouching and balancing carefully as they neared the creakiest part of the hall. It'd be a pain to summon one of the teachers on patrol now. Needing to find a new way out would be a problem, too, later on.

Mammon didn't shift at all, just kept walking. Bel wasn't sure if it was just a part of Mammon being Mammon or Mammon being lightweight, but even during these weird phases, Mammon didn't make a sound when he moved down the hall.

"No answer then?" he asked, and Mammon whirled on him, pressing his small hand against Bel's mouth and holding a finger up to his own lips.

"Ssh," Mammon said harshly, "You'll bring the teachers out of wherever they're hiding like that."

Not a proper broadside by any means, but Bel wasn't used to Mammon acting like that, and he scowled. Normally when he scowled it was enough for Mammon to give a little sigh and back off, drifting somewhere out of range, but now he just stayed like he was until he was sure Bel was done talking, eyes glimmering slightly in the darkness of the hall.

It should have been too dark to be able to see them properly. That worried him. Mammon turned before Bel had a chance to comment (not that he had anything to say) and started back down the hall, quickly. Bel continued at his own pace, because even if Mammon would not be denied when he was like this, Bel rather wanted to be contrary.

He rubbed his mouth, trying to get the feel of fingers off of it, but they refused go away just yet. Mammon slipped through the door, letting it swing shut behind him instead of waiting for Bel. It made Bel wonder how important to this mission he was. Did Mammon just expect him to follow that much, or would he wake someone else up if he didn't? It probably wouldn't go very well if he tried that, of course.

Bel took the stairs two at a time, but it didn't make him much faster. They liked to creak, even if he'd found that this way, his missed all of the absolute creakiest ones. The sound of footsteps wasn't a problem here, otherwise, because unlike the smooth, polished floors on the halls, someone had decided the stairs all needed carpeting. Or someone had decided that unlike the smooth, deliciously warm carpeting, the hallways had to be bare wood.

Whatever. It didn't mean he could move any faster here.

Mammon was nowhere to be seen once he got out of the stairwell again, or once he got out of the dorm itself and started towards the parking lot. That's where Mammon would be at this point, after all. It was the easiest place to find cars.

And hotwire them, Bel guessed. He almost passed the other boy when he found him, but that's what Mammon was doing, quickly and effectively, and evidently without any need for lighting – the street light a few feet away wouldn't have been sufficient for Bel, anyway.

Then again, Bel didn't have the best night vision to start with. That had always been something that bugged him.

Mammon didn't look up as he started the car and scooted over, but Bel opened the door anyway, sliding in beside him and putting his hands on the steering wheel.

"I just drive like normal, right?" he asked, already starting to back out of the driveway. He grinned again, because there was something kind of awesome about stealing someone's car from outside of a fancy private school. There was something even better about his roommate being able to hotwire it.

"Yes," Mammon replied, pulling the seatbelt over his chest, and leaning back, "Go south."

Bel almost asked which way that was supposed to be, then his eye caught on the rearview mirror. Mammon had managed to grab a car with an inbuilt compass, and Bel frowned. That wasn't freaky at all.

He turned out of the parking lot, facing north and ending up with the unfortunate decision of East or West. Mammon looked at the mirror for a moment before saying, blandly, "East should do."

They both lapsed into silence for a while.

Bel eventually managed to turn south, and they left the city behind fairly quickly. Mammon's eyes had started to glow, and Bel made a mental note to buy sunglasses for him as soon as he got the chance. They'd actually probably be fairly convenient. It wasn't like Mammon's eyes were naturally green, and while no one had noticed the color changes _yet_ it was only a matter of time.

Mammon protested when they pulled over. Bel was actually kind of surprised that he was still awake – then again (and this realization was accompanied by Mammon struggling to keep him in the car and almost putting one of his eyes out with a poorly targeted clawing motion) it was probably hard to sleep when you were coursing with some sort of divine electricity. At least that's what it felt like sometimes. Sitting in the car hadn't been so bad; when Mammon's attention was turned on him, it was like a thunderstorm was about to roll in, and the hairs on Bel's neck and arms stood up.

"I'm just grabbing some food and drink," Bel said, shutting the door, "Stay put, I'll be right out."

Mammon reached for the handle. Bel didn't stop him. If he wanted to come in after all, it wasn't a problem, unless he decided to try and make a scene.

Evidently, he just wanted to pick something out and be done with it. As soon as Bel had opened the door, he squirmed past, ducking under Bel's arm and making a beeline towards the cold drinks section. Bel scanned the room for some sort of stand for sunglasses and found one. While Mammon occupied himself pulling things out – two lemonades and an energy drink so far – Bel took a look at what it had to offer, spinning the stand around and putting an inordinate amount of care into his selection.

The darker the better, that was obvious. Most of the shades that met his requirements were rather feminine though (as were most of the shades in general), so he tried to think of what would suit Mammon.

Probably the more feminine kinds, anyway, since Mammon was unfortunate enough to be stuck with a delicate, girly face and not enough of a growth spurt to lose any reasonable amounts of baby fat. Not happening. He did his best to find something more or less masculine – a pair of steel gray aviators – and then turned, scanning the aisles for Mammon.

The other boy wasn't immediately evident, so Bel turned back around, approaching the counter and sliding the sunglasses across to the bored looking cashier. It actually took a moment to tell if it was a really feminine guy or a really masculine girl, but after a moment he figured it was a girl – the name Judith was kind of a giveaway on that one – and opened his wallet to dig out one of his many cards.

Mammon reached the counter again just as the cashier handed him the receipt, and while he piled his stuff onto the counter – chips, cookies, bags of Halloween candy, more soda, some sort of oriental drink that looked like very watered down milk, energy drinks, lemonade, and several packs of gum – Bel opened the sunglasses and popped them on his roommate's face.

There was a small pause while Mammon processed this, and Bel turned back to the cashier as she glared at them, scanning their road trip preparations and looking like they just ruined her day. Bel wasn't honestly that sure why Mammon had bought so much, or how he'd carried it, since the convenience-store-slash-gas-station didn't have grocery carts or hand baskets. He didn't ask any questions though, because asking Mammon questions was like dancing with a brick wall, and not something Bel actually enjoyed all that much.

He kept an eye on Mammon, discreetly, to make sure he didn't take the aviator shades off. He didn't, but they did look sort of ridiculous. He didn't even seem to acknowledge that Bel had put them there, just waited anxiously while Bel paid, and then grabbed most of the groceries and rushed out of the store.

Bel picked up the rest and made his way after him, once again.

In the car, Mammon handed him one of the bottles that looked like milk. Bel stuck it between his legs as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"What's with the glasses?"

"Nothing's with them," Bel grinned at the other boy, "Just wear them for these things, alright?"

Mammon considered that, breaking into a bag of chocolates, "They make us look suspicious."

"Better suspicious than walking around with glowing eyes."

Mammon didn't have anything to say to that, just curled up with his candy and leaned his head against the window.

"Take the next exit on your left."

They lapsed into silence again. After a while Bel turned on the radio.

Mammon had them pull over in the middle of nowhere, which Bel did not think was a good sign, but at this point, all he could really do was trust in him. They'd started to run low on gas, but Mammon had refused to let Bel stop, even grabbing the wheel at one point to prevent him from pulling over.

Generally, Mammon wasn't this strong.

"What are we here for?" Bel asked, irritated now, and Mammon suddenly seemed very intent on not looking at him. He got out of the car instead, looking around more openly than regular Mammon ever did.

"Mu~. Picking someone up," he said, "Get out of the car."

Bel did, baring his teeth and letting a small, threatening laugh get through them. Most days, that was enough to get Mammon to do what Bel wanted, but now Mammon just stood where he was, looking around, not even checking to make sure Bel followed his orders, because he knew that Bel would.

Bel shut the door, then turned to look at Mammon over the hood of the car. Mammon wasn't paying any attention, but he'd shifted slightly, staring out in front of the car, looking around, slowly.

The thing hit his back hard, knocking him into the car door. Bel swung around, lashing out, but whoever it was, whatever it was, ducked under him, wrapping its arms (or front legs, Bel guessed, if it was an animal of some sort) around his waist and struggling to throw him down. It was an eerie kind of strength, the kind that Mammon seemed to get when he was having one of his weird eye phases, and Bel swore, which ended up being what really alerted Mammon to what was going on, because then the other boy was there, throwing himself on top of the kid – Bel could kind of see them now, a flurry of shaggy green hair and skinny arms – and knocking Bel to the ground. The three of them landed in a heap as the skinny kid's focus shifted to Mammon, and Bel quickly grabbed him in a tight headlock. A lucky shot from their assailant sent Mammon's aviators flying, and there was a shout as his glowing green eyes were revealed.

It was fascinating how different from a cat's they looked now, between their own light and the light that was beginning to seep over the horizon. It was dawn – Bel officially lost hope for getting back before they were expected to arrive at class.

Not that it was a big deal to _him_ if they were late, just so long as Mammon didn't decide he needed to complain about it. Bel knocked the kid's head against the side of the car and stopped worrying about it.

"That _hurt_," the voice was mostly masculine, and the whiny tone dispelled any unease Bel had been feeling. If the kid was whining, he wasn't from whatever inner circle had sent Mammon along, that was for sure. Mammon didn't complain much when he wasn't possessed. He didn't complain at all when he was, no matter what he was forced to go through.

"Shut up, brat," Bel said, in response, "This'll be over sooner if you stop struggling."

"Just get off me," the kid tried to twist around and look at him, but Bel's arm was still in the way, "I'm not going with you guys."

That was an odd thing to say. It was a little worse when Mammon's reply was just, "Yes, you are. Bel, knock him out."

Bel obliged. He'd had a lot of practice.

When the kid had collapsed on top of him and underneath Mammon, Bel squirmed out from beneath the two of them. They were both incredibly lightweight, but he didn't like the feel of them on top of him regardless, and he walked towards the car, letting Mammon deal with getting the kid inside.

"Where are we taking him?" he asks, casually, but part of him's a little annoyed. Mammon's picked up his sunglasses and put them back on, and now he's tying the boy up, and Bel gets a fairly good look at them both when he turns around, wondering about the rope. It's thin and compact, but he still kind of wishes he'd noticed that sooner.

The boy's face is smudged with dirt, thin but by no means gaunt, and there are a couple small marks at the corners of his eyes. He doesn't look like anything at all when he's sleeping.

"Yuni," comes the response, and Mammon climbs through the center of the car to get back to his seat, digging out chips and candy and tossing them back towards the kid even though it doesn't make any sense because he just _tied that kid up_, "Then we'll let him go on the way back."

Mammon's eyes were starting to glow through the sunglasses, and Bel focused on driving.

He hated visiting Yuni. It was nothing against her, just that she was even smaller than Mammon – younger looking, too – and she seemed like she'd break at the slightest discretion. She was always followed by Byakuran and Gamma, and it created this perfectly ordered diagram of emotions that Bel just wanted to break.

He missed a lot about it, he's sure. A lot of _"But Gamma's being just as selfish as I am"_s and _"Byakuran's not being selfish, he's being cruel"_s because Bel always got stuck entertaining them while Yuni and Mammon talked.

He hated feelings.

He hated having to deal with them at all.

He really hoped this would be of those days where Gamma stayed behind with Yuni and he and Byakuran could just play video games and there didn't have to _be_ any feelings. It might still involve throwing his controller at the computer screen and sulking a few times, because Byakuran was so smug and good at this that it was impossible to deal with and have any amount of poise left over for anything, but it was better than being stuck between them while they argued.

About feelings.

It was so _gross_.

They pulled into the driveway of the house Byakuran maintained for his darlingest princess at ten o'clock, and Yuni and Gamma were on the swing set on the porch. Bel kind of snickered when he saw that, wondering if Byakuran felt cheated on or out of possession of something. He waited in the car with the prisoner while Mammon got out, lurking and hoping Yuni wouldn't look his way.

It wasn't Yuni's fault. It was just that Bel wasn't particularly comfortable with things when he didn't know if they'd aligned with the Devil or with God. You could tell with people. Yuni's kind were harder to read.

He saw the exact moment when the phase went away; Mammon slumped, just slightly, on his way up the steps, and Yuni rushed to his side, followed by Gamma. She asked if he's alright (Bel was pretty sure, he'd never had any official training in lip reading, it just seemed reasonable), and Mammon leaned away, a little, uncomfortable with the idea of someone caring about him.

Gamma joined in the conversation, and then came around to the car, opening the door at the kid's head and pulling him out. Bel watched him, popping the joints of his neck with one hand as Gamma checked the kid's vitals.

He wasn't sure how human Gamma was. If he was a regular man, or if he was like Mammon, but he knew he wasn't whatever Yuni was.

"He's alive," Bel chirped, "I didn't kill him this time~."

He liked to maintain that he was someone people should be careful with. It made people appreciate him more. Gamma glanced at him, something in his eyes like disgust or contempt, and turned back to the kid.

It was sort of reassuring. Bel relaxed a little. Sure, they were around Yuni, who never fell for shit like that, and Byakuran, who just never cared, but at least Gamma was reasonable. The man pulled the kid out of the car, hoisting him over his shoulder, then said, "Go keep Byakuran out of the way."

Bel did. He bared his teeth and laughed a little while he got out of the car, but then he made a dash for the door of the house, brushing past Mammon and darting around Yuni and making it indoors, where at least the abnormality of kidnapping little kids who were probably still in middle school hadn't happened yet, not for real. Gamma slammed both doors of the car shut.

Bel made his way to the kitchen first, wanting something other than junk food and too warm calpico or whatever it was (which, regardless of Mammon's intentions, did not taste like milk). Byakuran was already in there, making sandwiches and wearing a ridiculously frilly apron. He didn't offer any explanation as Bel sidled in beside him and opening the fridge and looking around for what he can find.

There wasn't much. It looked like someone needed to go shopping – but there was actual milk, and he took that out greedily, setting it on the counter before clambering up beside it to get a glass. It was a really nice counter, he'd give them that, but the dishes hadn't been washed recently, because there weren't many glasses in the cupboard, and most of the other ones were on the opposite counter or in the sink.

"This place is a mess," he said, as Byakuran looked up-and-over towards him, "What's with the lack of upkeep? Gamma getting tired of dealing with you lot?"

Gamma, from what Bel'd seen so far, has generally been pretty good about keeping things neat and orderly, either through his own efforts, or through the people he'd hired to help out with things. He would also never get tired of dealing with Yuni, which Byakuran commented on, followed by a low laugh and a shake of his head.

He was tense though. He knew Bel was needling him, and Bel took one of the few remaining glasses out, about to say something more when he saw Yuni out the corner of his eyes and he stopped, lifting the glass to his lips. Yuni was still giving him her stern look, and while her hands weren't quite on her hips, it wouldn't have surprised him if they had been. Byakuran looked up, beaming at her, and dropping everything so he could prance to her side.

"Yuni, dear! What do you want on your sandwich?" he asked, not hesitating to put his hands on her shoulders and then slide them around to wrap her in a hug. It was fluid, almost the way a snake would move, but at the same time there was something about it that mad Bel think there was no way a snake would ever move like that. Too energetic, maybe.

Yuni looked up, smiling at him a little too hesitantly for Bel's peace of mind, "I'm alright with anything, thank you."

Byakuran nodded, still smiling, and pecked the temple of her head before prancing back towards Bel and continuing work on the sandwiches. Yuni turned her attention back to Bel, reaching up to draw the white cloak she always wore tighter around her shoulders.

There was something about Yuni that said you _would _care about her. Bel had always interpreted this to be something of a sort of threat – you would care about her, or she would destroy you – but Yuni had never seemed to notice it existed, never been aware that something followed her from room to room, insisting everyone had to care, and giving everyone in the room a dead eyed glare. Maybe it was her eyes – large, and a clear, refreshing blue that said they'd never seen badness or decay in the world, just pain and things that look like badness or decay but weren't if you looked closer. Or maybe was just that she was so tiny and breakable.

Whatever it was, it was hard not to want to make the world live up to her standards, and so whenever she looked at Bel like she did now (which had only been two or three times in the last two or three months, way better than the end of the year before last when he first started working with Mammon for her), he couldn't help but feel a little guilty. He hated feeling guilty.

"What?" he asked eventually and his mind flipped back and forth between Mammon and Byakuran, and then gradually started including Gamma and the kid into the equation. He wasn't sure who he ticked off enough for Yuni to be upset at him about it, and she didn't explain, at least right not then. Instead she walked over, holding her hands out to Bel.

"You shouldn't sit on the counters, please," she said, "Gamma says they fall apart faster when people do that."

Which meant that Gamma and Tazaru were probably working on fixing up the house. It explained a little, but not a lot. Unless the last of Gamma's hired help – Nosaru – was out with a cold again, which wouldn't be a surprise.

Bel made a noise in the back of his throat that was supposed to signify his own grief at what a pain this was, but he set his glass to the side and let Yuni help him down. She seemed pleased to be of assistance, and picked up his glass and took his hand once he'd landed.

"They can use my room," Byakuran volunteered, cheerfully, "I'm not going to be any time soon."

Yuni smiled at him – it was sweet, less strained than usual, and somewhat tender, and all of a sudden Bel was pretty sure he understood more about Byakuran than he wanted to. Enough to toy with him was fine, because Byakuran already toyed with Bel a great deal of the time. Enough to feel bad for him was not.

"Thank you, Byakuran," she said, and lead Bel out of the kitchen. Bel followed somewhat reluctantly, but didn't say any of the mean spiteful things he could conjure up to say to her. She couldn't be older than thirteen, and he'd say she was closer to twelve, and there was something about her that just insisted he shouldn't hurt her.

It'd be mean, picking on a kid like that.

"His name is Fran," she said, as they got into the hallway, "And we're trying to get him onto our side."

She said it in a way that – even if it wasn't Bel she was talking to – it wouldn't be hard to figure out what she was talking about, even though she did nothing to lead up to it. Bel tilted his head, glancing at her from behind his hair, and she continued.

"Recently, it's come to our attention that there's been a lot of activity – similar to ours, but not quite the same – involved in an increase in criminal acts. Byakuran insisted we investigate, and Gamma agreed, and so we found that there has recently been a group of people – the Estraneo family, I think. They have connections to the mafia."

"That'd be family, yes," Bel interrupted, because he had some vague experience with mafia, and he was a prince, and he should damn well know these things. Yuni nodded, and offered him a small smile.

"Alright then. It's good to know I remembered right," she said, and then continued, "Recently, they've been trying to recreate us. Gamma thinks they thought we were gods, but Byakuran says they just wanted power, and they didn't care whether it was mortal or divine," there was a slight pause, and then she murmured, "I think I agree with Byakuran."

Bel had yet to really figure out the bond between Yuni and Byakuran. On the one hand, Yuni and Gamma were closer and quite possibly in love — although it was really hard to say. On the other hand, Yuni and Byakuran understood things in a similar way. They both stood outside of human culture and watched from a distance. Bel supposed Byakuran could still be pretty normal, but he really really doubted it.

There was a moment of silence, while she mulled this over, and Bel tugged on her hand to get her back on track. She didn't start when he did, but she looked like she'd been pulled back from somewhere when she started talking again, "It backfired considerably. Their most successful experiment was a man named Mukuro Rokudou, and he can't help but constantly utilize the people he comes in contact with. His powers are completely out of control, and so we want to do what we can to fix things."

"Which starts with rehabilitating his support network?" Bel asked, trying to decide how much sense that move made. Yuni nodded, and explained.

"He seems to be fairly xenophobic, and likes to have the same people around him from day to day. I think it might actually be possible that he cares about them, but I'm not certain yet. At the very least, it will take him a while to build up a group he feels he can trust, even if he's using them constantly."

They'd reached the door to Byakuran's room, which Bel knew from experience would not be particularly furnished and mostly just white with high quality furniture and a really comfortable bed. Yuni gave Bel a solemn look, "I'll see what can be done about school and the car, but would it be possible for you to stay until he's settled better?"

There was no telling Yuni no. Bel sighed, pouting, but finally whined, "Fine."

That earned him a beaming smile at least. That had to count for something, but sometimes it really, really didn't.

"Thank you," she said, and took his hand again – when had she let go? – holding it up between her hands and his own cup, "Please try not to needle Byakuran or Gamma too much while you're here?"

"Alright," he replied, and then, when she let go, leaving the cup in his hand, reached for the doorknob, "But if they start it, I'll give it back to them."

She smiled until he shut the door behind him.


	2. FRAN

Fran's wrists and ankles both itched a little when he woke up – or maybe a lot. He wasn't where he last remembered being, which was a field somewhere in the middle of nowhere, and that wasn't a good sign, but he wasn't somewhere uncomfortable either, which was a better sign than if he had been, he guessed, sort of. Then again, it probably wouldn't mean much in the long run. It was just nice.

His thoughts as far as comfort went stopped there, and he tried to make up his mind about whether or not nice was good. A week ago, he would have answered that pretty definitively as _why wouldn't_ _nice be good?_ but now he actually had to dwell on it.

See, life was really starting to think nice things should be bad, and apparently it really wanted Fran to know this. It was kind of undecided if it was a conspiratorial whispering from a fancy lady in a red dress sipping champagne, or if it was just an excited child screaming _look what I can do_, but he had lots of examples. Mukuro, for instance. He'd seemed totally nice at first, albeit creepy and touchy and probably one of those strangers you got warnings about in school, now that he thought about it . . . .

But nicer than the gang that Fran had fallen in with lately – they hadn't really been nice at all, and it was probably still good to be rid of them, even if Mukuro, it turned out, wasn't really that much better.

He groaned, sitting up and groping around for the back of whatever he was lying on. A couch. Right. It looked like he was in someone's living room, to be honest – someone's very fashionable, monochromatic living room. Sleek, modern, totally geared toward a scientific future. Rich. Maybe they'd adopt him. He was pretty sure he wouldn't mind.

There was someone else in the room. Fran studied her as he tried to get oriented. She was one of those people that were supremely hard to ignore – not due to an overwhelming confidence or beauty or whatever, but because of something deeper than that, and he got the feeling she was trying to suppress it. She wasn't looking at him, yet, just focusing on several sheets of paper she'd placed in front of herself, but she wasn't ignoring him either, because when he looked over at her, she spoke up.

"Please be careful about sitting up too fast," she said, and her voice was delicate and more than a little shy. Now that Fran thought about it, she was kind of cute, so maybe he _would_ mind being adopted, depending on how she was involved in this, he guessed.

There was no way she'd been related to the man who threw him into the truck, that was for sure. Fran reached up, gingerly pressing his fingers to the side of his head as thoughts of adoption quickly fled. It didn't hurt at all. Just was kind of embarrassing.

"My head hurts," he said, even though it was a lie, as thoughts of impressing cute girls and being totally cool about it disappeared as well, "What're you even doing, hiring psychopaths to come hunt me down and kidnap me? I haven't done anything wrong."And she was, like, thirteen. Maybe fourteen at most – she was way too young to be organizing kidnapping plots.

She didn't seem particularly impressed – which was good, because he wasn't trying to impress her, he wasn't even thinking about it! – as he curled up, still watching her. She just chewed her lip and circled something on the paper.

And then she looked up, and Fran felt his stomach drop, and his heart started pounding. His mouth was suddenly dry and his mind suddenly very scattered, and he felt too hot and had to keep remembering to breathe. It was all of the symptoms of falling in love, he was sure, but he was also pretty sure, if not dead certain, that love had nothing to do with it.

Fran was fifteen and had yet to do anything quite so silly as falling in love. He had no intentions of starting now, so he looked away, like that would somehow help, and counted, slowly. That did help. So did the girl averting her eyes, which he felt instead of saw, but after a moment, his mind calmed down, and was slowly followed by his body.

"Hi," he said, weakly, then, more strongly, "Good to know I've been abducted by aliens with supernatural powers rather than a gang with big guns and money problems, cause I don't have any money and my grandma died, so they can't really get money out of her either."

There was a small, nervous laugh, but it seemed like as long as the girl wasn't looking at him, he didn't have to deal with the side effects of being in the same room as her.

"I'm sorry about your grandmother," she offered. Fran shrugged, watching her again.

"It's okay~," he replied, "Unless you did that with your alien superpowers or something, but it doesn't change anything either way."

The girl nodded, and turned to face him without actually looking at him. Trying to let him see her face? It was mostly her eyes that mattered either way, he guessed, and they were really cute – clear, blue, not too light and not too dark, just somewhere in the middle. Good for watercolor, probably. Not the pictures, but the paints themselves.

There was reddish orange flower stamped on her cheek. It might have been a birthmark, but was just orange enough for him to wonder about that.

"Capturing you serves a purpose beyond separating you from the people you've been staying with," she told him, "There is an aspect of it that is involved in your own safety."

She wasn't the first person to tell him Mukuro was dangerous. She wouldn't be the last. He still didn't like hearing it though, and looked away, leaning back, making his tone as flamboyantly disinterested as possible.

That had to be an oxymoron.

"Yeah, yeah, heard it before," he said, smoothly, inflection down perfectly for what he wanted to say, "Mukuro's dangerous, out of control and crazy. He's just using us for his own purposes, which involve taking over the world, wiping out everyone who does crime ever, and replacing everything to do with bakeries with pineapples, because everyone knows pineapples are just _better_. If we don't agree to do what he wants he'll make us and then cut off our toes and hang them from his window. Maybe with lights. They'd actually look pretty cool under the toenails I bet."

The girl across the room looked at him, for a moment, like she wasn't sure what had just happened. Then she watched him, like she wanted to be sure of her opening move.

She'd had her opening move, of course, but Fran didn't tell her that. She was obviously new to this game. He could give her the benefit of the doubt on that one.

"Most people are dangerous," she said, carefully, and that was the wrong move, but Fran didn't interrupt, "And Mukuro is out of control, but I don't think he's _crazy_."

She looked very much like she hoped he wasn't, at any rate. Not the oh-god-I-can't-deal-with-this hope but the it-really-wouldn't-be-right kind.

"Did you miss the part about the toenails?" Fran asked, "Cause that came from Mukuro's own mouth."

"But the part about the lights came from you," the girl replied, "And I don't think you're crazy."

She looked at him again, solemnly, and Fran felt that rush in his stomach and his lungs and he felt dizzy again until she looked away, back to her paperwork, marking down something else. Fran took several deep breaths.

"Your capture was as much as for your safety as it was for a myriad of other reasons," she continued, "So we'd appreciate it if you would wait this out before we continue. You probably understand that our main objective isn't you."

"It's Mukuro," Fran finished, "What do you want with him?"

He didn't feel at all concerned about this turn of events, which was interesting – maybe he _had_ been spending too much time around Mukuro, after all – but he still had no intention of letting whoever these people were at him.

The girl nodded.

"He's not the way he is by nature, so he has a few. . . difficulties with controlling it. We're hoping to separate and rehabilitate the people he's been channeling through–"

"Possessing," Fran corrected. Yuni neither argued with nor accepted his terminology.

"—So that we can capture Mukuro without too much harm to ourselves. Past that, we'll need to rehabilitate him as well, and find him a place in our world, since that's where he belongs now."

Fran watched her for a moment, sitting up straight and folding his hands in lap, then asked, "So who are you guys, anyway?"

Very carefully, the girl turned her face to him, careful not to actually look up at him.

"My name is Yuni," she said, folding her hands as well, "The men I sent to capture you were Viper Avidita and Belphegor – I'm not sure of his last name. Belphegor has experience with a wide variety of street brawling, Viper is quite capable of handling security. We have four other people in the house, of whom two have extensive training in combat, and one has basic training in firearms. You will not be leaving our territory."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Fran replied, looking up over her head, "Heroes are supposed to stay in the clutches of the bad guys for as long as possible. That way they can get more information."

Yuni didn't seem to follow, but also didn't seem to care much. Fran got the distinct impression that he'd injured her, though, and pushed back the desire to apologize. He didn't apologize that often, and normally wouldn't feel like he had to now, which meant manipulation on some level or another.

Purposeful? Maybe. Evidently Yuni was better at this game than he'd thought.

"We've filled out an application for you for school," she told him, and slid the papers she was working on over the desk towards him, "We just need you to sign it, and we'll have it delivered."

She waited patiently while he stood up and glanced at the paperwork, wondering why they knew so much about him. Then he sighed, and scrawled something more or less like a signature over the line captioned APPLICANT'S SIGNATURE.

Pushing the papers back, and hoping he wouldn't have to pay for anything unexpected now that he had, he turned back towards the couch.

"You may go now, if you'd like," Yuni said, behind him, and suddenly his heart was doing flipflops again, so she must have looked at him. He reached out, leaning on the desk to steady himself, "Byakuran will find you for a check-up, but other than that you're free for the evening."

He did his best not to waste time in heading toward the door, but he also really didn't want to fall down, so he focused on slow and mostly graceful, trying to block out the sound of her voice, just a little.

"And Fran?" she was continuing, "I'm really sorry about all of this."

He was kind of worried that she meant it.

He didn't see the Viper guy, but he met up with Belphegor halfway through a breakfast of granola bars and the chips he found in three of the cupboards. Not all of the chips – just three bags out of hundreds and hundreds. He was surprised that the people in the fancy house weren't all fat as llamas.

Then again, llamas weren't really fat, now that he thought about it. Elephants? Those were pretty muscley though, weren't they?

Or just wrinkly, he guessed.

Bel wasn't wrinkly. Or fat, or muscley, to be honest; he was just kind of stocky and tallish. Taller than Fran, at least, which upset him. Bel walked in a way that made him seem lean though, like a predator, and the way he grinned when he caught sight of Fran set Fran's hair on end. He kept a careful eye on the chips through the entirety of the conversation, just in case Bel tried to poison him.

"You better enjoy those snacks," the other boy – blond, maybe a couple years older than Fran, and dressed in fancy clothing. Everyone here seemed to be rich, "They were a pain to carry out to the car for you."

Then he laughed, like there was something funny about that or about Fran in general that Fran hadn't gotten. Fran stared at him, placidly, and then glanced back at the chips in his hand. They weren't really chips so much as cheese puffs, to be honest. Not brand name either. Cheapskates.

Or maybe brand only mattered with clothes? Fran was pretty sure he didn't really know anyway.

"They taste disgusting," he said, by way of greeting, then leaned back to toss them in his mouth, looking at Bel now, since the food was out of sight until he leaned back over it, propping his chin in his hands, "Can't you afford anything better?"

Bel seemed taken aback by that, then he grinned in a way that was more baring of teeth than grinning, and made his way towards Fran, "What was that, brat?"

"They're disgusting," Fran said, leaning away just in case Bel tried to pull his hair, "Are you deaf? Please tell me you're not deaf. I don't wanna have to deal with something like that."

"You ungrateful little –"

Bel was interrupted by another blond – dad, uncle? – poking his head in and sighing, "Don't pick on the new kid, Bel. It's a little early for that."

"Is Bel short for Belphegor?" Fran asked, not letting Bel have a chance to proclaim his innocence. Bel did so anyway.

"I wasn't, Gamma," he said, sneering, "Leave me alone."

Gamma glanced over at Fran, not unkindly per se, but not in a way that was not very _nice_. More of a stern father type. He nodded, then turned his attention back to Bel.

Bel did not seem to want this fatherly attention. He did not seem to like the idea of fathers.

Not that they'd come up.

But Fran was pretty sure about that one.

"Cause Yuni warned me about Belphegor," Fran continued, blithely, "She said he's a psycho freak and he kills babies."

Neither of them seemed to believe him. Bel looked sort of frustrated about it, but kept grinning. Gamma didn't grin, but seemed amused.

"No, she didn't," Bel said, "Because Yuni is of the idea that evil doesn't actually exist in the world, and psycho freaks that kill babies qualify."

Fran almost asked him if he'd shown Yuni the news, but Gamma got there first.

"No, actually," he said, "It's because as much as Bel tries to convince us that that's what he is, Yuni is pretty good at telling when people are lying to her."

Bel looked even more irritated. There was something about his face that suggested Gamma had just held candy out to him, right in front of his face, and then taken it back once Bel had unwrapped it. It didn't even matter if it was the kind of candy Bel liked; the thought was what counted.

Fran gave him a blank look.

"You _want _her to think you kill babies?" he asked, "What if she calls the police on you?"

He didn't quite move out of the way fast enough as Bel shoved him, and fell, jarring his head against the floor for his efforts. He laid there for a moment, half expecting Bel to continue the fight, but when nothing happened, and he sat up to see, Bel's back was in the doorway, marching out.

Gamma looked at Fran for a moment, then shook his head and made his way over. Fran looked up at him, somewhat dazed.

"I don't need a dad either, mister," he said, rubbing his head even though it didn't actually hurt, or at least not enough to notice, "Especially not a weird stern one like you."

Gamma was unfazed, and reached down, helping Fran to his feet rather roughly.

"Too bad, kid," he said, wrapping an arm around Fran's shoulder, "Cause you're stuck with it."

Through Gamma, Fran met three other members of the house (Viper Avidita was still not around): Byakuran, an in-your-face friendly guy who kind of gave him the creeps, though he couldn't say why; Tazaru, an older man who seemed fairly reasonable and down to earth, but was _clearly _slow on the uptake; and Nosaru, who was down with a cold, but otherwise seemed really, really loud, and really, _really_ obnoxious..

Fran made a point of not liking any of them. Gamma and Tazaru seemed to meet that in stride, and traded each other knowing looks over his head. Why they thought he couldn't see them was a mystery that Fran didn't really feel like indulging.

Nosaru was really easy to agitate, so Gamma didn't let him stay there for very long, instead leading about on a tour of the rest of the house. While they were walking past the door to the living room (closed), it occurred to Fran to wonder about something.

"Is Yuni spying on Mukuro?" he asked, nonchalantly, the clarified with, "I mean, really closely, like knowing who said what closely."

Gamma shrugged.

"I don't think so," he replied, and for a moment something like worry passed over his face, before it disappeared and he reached out to tousle Fran's hair, "She just knows things, sometimes."

And got overwhelmed, Fran guessed, but he didn't comment further. He also didn't comment on the fact that he was too old for hair tousling.

They got around back to the front of the house eventually, and there was a dark haired kid – he couldn't tell if they were a boy or a girl just yet – standing in the door way, looking very familiar as they took their shoes off. He_ did_ recognize them, after all. That was the kid from the truck, which meant it had to be Viper Avidita, he guessed.

Had that been a boy or a girl? He couldn't remember what Yuni had said on the matter. Though he was pretty sure she'd said she'd only sent men. So they were probably a boy.

Viper looked up as he got closer, frowning at him. He was wearing sunglasses again, and they obscured his eyes pretty well, but Fran was still willing to be they weren't green. The other boy seemed tired, too, which implied a longer duration under the influence of whatever it was people like Yuni did, and that meant that, when he pushed up the sunglasses to squint up at Fran like he wasn't sure why the captive was up and running around so soon, the faded green was probably going to continue fading for a while.

Looked like his eyes were blue. Fran made note to keep that in mind.

"Hey," he said, as Viper drew himself up, "You're Viper, right? Aren't you supposed to be in charge of security?"

"Mu," the boy's frown deepened, and he pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants. He'd been wearing a poncho earlier, as far as Fran remembered, but now he was wearing a dark hoodie and a too-large shirt that looked a lot like a dress and not so much like a shirt. His pants were also too skinny – was he sure Yuni meant to say "men"?

Aliens with supernatural powers were probably prone to trouble with gender distinctions, after all.

"It's Mammon," evidently, the boy didn't see anything else Fran had said as worth responding to, "Unless you're a teacher or Yuni."

There was not a "but you're not" tacked on there, silently or otherwise, and Fran tucked his hands behind his back, watching Viper quietly. A lot of people would have implied that, with tone or body language, but Viper just didn't seem to want to bother.

"Whatever," Fran drawled out, after considering this for a while, "Where've you been, anyway? Security can't be managed from outside the house, you know."

If Fran was trying to get under Viper's skin with this (he was) it wasn't working. Viper shook off his other shoe and padded towards the hallway Fran was standing in, slipping around him without contact.

"If Yuni says I was doing security, Fran," he said, "She was lying."

Fran watched him go, "Or you just missed the memo. If you leave your shoes like that every day, you _can't_ be that organized, Viper."

"It's Mammon," that was the extent of the response, emotionally as well as verbally. There was no snapping tone, no bite, just a slight lilt that didn't mean anything.

Fran was really starting to decide he didn't like the people here. For a moment, he considered going to find Yuni, and then decided, all things considered, he didn't really want to spend time with her either.

Bel found out Viper'd come back – Fran supposed he'd get it over with and just start calling him Mammon, since it would happen eventually anyway – and after Fran had stolen the bathroom for a good three hours (taking a bath, and then a shower when he decided to actually get clean, and then sitting in there for a final half hour just making everything a huge mess), they'd taken over the living room. Bel had pulled Mammon next to him and trying to read over his shoulder. Mammon was (pointedly) ignoring Bel, and sitting there as still as a statue. He'd taken the hoodie off at some point, but it didn't make him look like any less of a girl, especially with the aviators perched on top of his head like the imprint of a night with a much manlier boyfriend. There was a bulky looking fedora on the cabinet next to them.

"Done with the bathroom?" Bel asked as Fran entered the room, fully intending to snatch that hat because he'd been with out a hat for at least twenty four hours, "Feel pretty now?"

It was almost like Bel had heard his thoughts about Mammon, and wished to return them. Mammon turned a page of his book while Bel was distracted, and kept reading.

"Yup," Fran replied, picking up the hat and inspecting it, "Totally pretty. I'm now officially the prettiest person here, right?"

He stuck the hat on his head and turned and walked out, wondering if he could find any more somewhere.

"It's okay, Bel," Mammon said behind him, "I still think you're the prettiest. Mu~"

There was a hint of sarcasm to the comment that drew out a small laugh from Bel, and Fran glanced over to see that he was bearing his teeth again, and Mammon looked a little less happy with his arrangement. Well, that was something to keep in mind, he supposed.

"Not to self," he said out loud, as he rounded the corner of the door, "Bel and Mammon are gay for each other, but Mammon might just be bicurious."

He opened a closet door, peering at it, and found nothing of value. Closing it, he was interrupted – not by anything he could actually name so much as by his mind becoming hazy and his heart starting to pound.

So.

Yuni was in the room and she was looking at him. It was good to know that that would always be a telltale sign of her observing him, and if she was watching him in the shower he'd know.

He turned around, pulling the hat he'd found for himself down over his eyes and looking at her again. She was watching him, head tilted to the side like she was a little lost, and her eyes kept flipping up to his hat. Fran tugged at the rim again, covering his eyes a little better, and waited for her to look away.

Evidently, that wasn't something she was planning on doing this time.

"Can I help you, or are you just going to keep staring?" he demanded, sullenly. She shook her head.

"I was just wondering," she asked, still staring at him intently, "If that was Reborn's hat. I think it is – did you get it from the living room?"

"Yeah, I guess," he replied, leaning against the closet door and stuffing his hands in his pockets, much like Mammon had earlier. The part of his head always up for the game spun out of control with over analysing that, but the part of him that had a lot more common sense told it to shut up.

It took a lot longer than it should have, especially since it shouldn't have happened at all.

"If you could really call it a living room," he added, right when she'd opened her mouth to say something.

"If he comes back before you leave, please just give it to him," she said, earnestly, "And please don't take it with you when you go."

Come on, he had to have at least _one_ hat.

"I won't," he said, as petulantly as possible. Yuni was not taken aback, of course. She barely seemed to notice his tone, just kept watching him. If this kept up, the whole _i rabu u sooo much _effect from her eyes would probably be permanent. That wasn't a good thing by any stretch of the imagination.

He wondered what Mukuro would advise he do, then decided that Mukuro never had any good ideas, and dismissed it.

Yuni nodded at him, gave him a very serious look, and turned. Fran sighed in relief as she made her way down the hall.

Turning in the opposite direction, he went in search of more closets – and more hats.


	3. MAMMON

The house was quiet when Mammon woke up again, and it was still quiet, now that he was curled up on the sofa (alone this time, thank god), textbook in his lap, and pencil tapping against the pages. It wasn't an uneasy quiet, exactly, but there was something about it that set him on edge, and it was taking him longer than he liked to figure out what it was. Economics wasn't holding his attention as well as he'd like, either, for that matter.

It didn't seem like a very productive night yet. Maybe it would soon, but he doubted it.

Setting the text book aside, he got up. He could check on Yuni and the prisoner, at least. He was restless. Nothing out of the normal there either, especially after a phase.

The hallway was dark, and slightly ominous. He stared at it from the living room doorway for a while, then sighed and flicked the light switch on as he walked by. No point in letting Fran sneak by him because he couldn't see well in the dark.

Yuni was sound asleep – the picture almost made him smile – curled up between Gamma and Byakuran . She didn't seem to be dreaming, which was good, since Gamma had told him she was prone to nightmares. Gamma himself was clearly caught up in something, though, because he kept twisting about, trying to fight something off. Mammon considered waking him up, but as soon as he thought that the other man started to quiet down.

He shut the door and continued down the hallway, tapping the door to Byakuran's room when he reached it, and then counting the three doors that separated it from Gamma's. There was light seeping through the crack between the floor and the door itself, and his frown deepened as he opened it.

There was an immediate complaint. Apparently Fran had been sitting somewhat close by.

"Hey, watch it, will you?" he whined, "Just because you're flamboyantly gay doesn't mean you have to be a creeper, jeeze."

"Mu," Mammon neglected to point out that Bel was clearly the one who was flamboyantly gay, and instead went for the far more important matter of, "Even if Yuni doesn't consider you to be a prisoner, you're still a prisoner as far as the rest of us are concerned."

Fran squinted up at him, suspiciously, and Mammon stared back, waiting. Eventually, the other boy would give and they'd call it a day. Mammon had yet to meet anyone who could beat him at staring contests, although why this was continued to be something of a mystery.

All he was doing was staring back, after all. And that was all Fran was doing, but after a while, Mammon broke eye contact, glancing around the room.

Hats were scattered all over the place. He was really starting to wonder if there was something wrong with this kid.

"Reborn will be back sometime tomorrow morning," Mammon said, spotting the hat his associate (maybe? He really hoped not, actually) kept under strict guard during his stays here. He never took it with him, claiming to have spares, but no one who knew better dared touch it, just in case.

There was a dramatic, very put upon sigh, and Fran fell backwards with a thump, "That's what Byakuran said, and Gamma, and Bel, and Tazaru, and Nosaru, and Yuni. I know already, Jesus."

"Don't speak like that," Mammon snapped, "You're going to a private school, where we have standards. And have any of those people told you twice?"

Fran stared up at Mammon, and this time, when Mammon stared back, he was the first to look away, "Yuni did."

He was whining again. Did he ever stop whining?

"I'll tell him again," came a cheerful offer, and Mammon didn't look behind him as an arm was wrapped casually around his shoulders, "Reborn's coming in the morning, and if he sees you with his hat he'll kill you."

The way Bel's chuckle (light, more to himself than for an intimidation tactic, which made it that much more frightening) brushed against Mammon's ear set the hairs on his arms on end.

Fran scowled in Bel's general direction, but focused mostly on Mammon. Mammon made a point of not reacting.

"I brought your school uniform back with me," he said, "I hope you don't mind if Fran uses the white shirt and your spare jacket."

He glanced back, casually separating himself from Bel's arm just in case this statement resulted in some sort of princely, violent temper tantrum (not that it ever had, yet). Bel was scowling, but didn't seem to feel like doing something about it.

This had started some time around dinner, but Mammon hadn't been paying attention. It just felt like one of those things that was going to happen sooner or later.

It maybe had something to do with broccoli.

"Yes, I mind," Bel was turning to Mammon beseechingly, pouting and doing his best to look wronged. Mammon didn't see what the issue was – Bel didn't wear the shirt anyway, and Mammon was already donating his own pants.

"That's unfortunate, then," Mammon answered, and sighed, making his way towards the stack of hats on Fran's bed. Had the kid been intending to sleep at all?

"He can just wear his own clothes until they get him a uniform," Bel whined, while Mammon picked up one of the hats and inspected it, "It's not like it hasn't happened before."

"Mu. It'll still look bad," Mammon replied, "It's bad enough that you never wear your uniform properly anyway."

"Shishi," Bel stuffed his hands in his pockets and grinned again. Mammon checked the distance between them, "Like you have room to talk."

"Mu. I get paid." was all Mammon had to say to that. Bel kicked Fran as he made his way over to the bed, and Fran made a noise of protest but didn't move, even when Bel collapsed on Gamma's bed, making the springs creak. Of course Gamma would have a creaky bed.

He did turn his head though.

"Why is he even here?" he asked, "He's not one of Yuni's bodyguards, and he's not like us, so he's clearly not in service to her, or part of this whole let's-save-Mukuro's-soul thing – which is kind of really self righteous and spoiled and stupid, by the way. Couldn't you guys come up with anything better?"

"Shut up," Bel snapped, and briefly turned away from Mammon, to give his most threatening grin at Fran. Fran just took it, staring at him blandly. That was actually fairly impressive, Mammon guessed.

Kind of. Given the circumstances.

"Because he can drive," Mammon replied. Bel's grin quickly twisted around, and he sat up straighter, like he was now feeling very proud of himself.

"He can drive?" Fran asked, blandly, and then when Bel opened his mouth (Mammon was positive he waited until just that moment – a heart beat of a pause, an open mouth), "That's all it takes to get involved in super powerful alien activities around here? What, do you have a neighborhood club?"

He turned back to face the ceiling, "I guess you could call it 'High Society Galaxy Club' or something. Have everyone come around for teatime."

Bel threw a hat in Fran's general direction. Fran didn't bother to react.

There was a moment of silence, while Bel continued to be distracted by Fran, and Mammon sat down on the opposite side of the bed. He was starting to feel sleepy again.

"Bel grew up in a variety of embassies," Mammon continued, not really sure what tangent he was on, and then yawned, laying down on the bed and curling up, "And his parents did a lot of work with other countries. He has a lot of useful skills, actually."

"Other than hitting things?" Fran sounded dubious, "I don't believe you. Besides, doesn't that mean he should i_not_/i kidnap people?"

"It's not like I'm in an embassy now," Bel sneered, "Or like we're supposed to kidnap people in the first place."

Fran didn't make a point of insisting that it was still kind of important, or that Bel's actions would still have some sort of impact on his standing in the embassy, which Mammon half expected him to do.

Instead he shot back, "So they kicked you out? Wow, you're a failure."

Bel gritted his teeth, and Mammon glanced up at him from the pillows. This wasn't something he liked talking about with Bel, and Bel didn't like talking about it with anyone. Mammon wasn't entirely sure what the situation with Rasiel entailed, exactly, and he didn't want to know.

"They didn't kick me out," Bel said, pronouncing it carefully, "I got tired of Siel cheating off my tests and I left."

As far as the school was concerned, this seemed to be the case. Then again, informants couldn't always be trusted.

Fran stared at Bel, evidently gauging his reaction before saying anything further. Or gauging the distance – Mammon wouldn't be surprised by either one. Both would actually be wise.

"Siel?" Fran asked, and Mammon noticed that he was actually staring at Bel like he was crazy, "Are you claiming to be a prince?"

"I am a prince," Bel snarled, "Can't you see. . . ."

He trailed off. Mammon's eyes went to the top of Bel's head.

"It's on your dresser," he said complacently, and prepared to push himself off the bed as quickly as possible. Bel was quiet, mouth braced up in a twitchy, irritated grin, and there was a murderous aura surrounding him.

"It was on the floor," Mammon added, frowning at him and making his way to stand, "Mu."

Honestly, Bel should have appreciated the fact that Mammon had picked it up. Mammon made his way to the other wall.

Fran seemed to be considering something, "Wait, you can't drive, and Bel was here this afternoon, and Gamma was here, and Tazaru, where did you go?"

"Mammon can drive," Bel responded, immediately. Mammon considered that. He was pretty sure he couldn't.

"Then why do you get to be part of the High Society Galaxy club because you can?" Fran asked, somewhat crossly, "Viper can't drive."

"Mammon," Mammon corrected automatically, "I got a ride from Skull."

Bel sneered and seemed to be about to ask how that went, but Fran interrupted again.

"Where do you guys even come up with these names?" he demanded, "Did you just grab a dictionary of evil baby names or something and pick from that?"

"That's not how nicknames work," Mammon replied, "I'll assume you never had friends to teach you that."

Bel was smart enough to not point out that Mammon didn't get his "nickname" from friends.

"Did you turn in the car when you did this?" he asked instead, "Do we have to get a ride from Skull again to get back?"

"Yes," Mammon yawned, curling up where he was and allowing himself to fall sideways, and ignoring Bel's look of displeasure, "He'll dispose of the evidence sometime tonight."

If Bel had a response to that, Mammon didn't hear it.

Mammon woke up several more times in the night; Fran remained complacent, Yuni remained dreamless, his economics homework remained generally miserly and unfavorable. At some point, around three forty in the morning, Fran woke him up demanding cookies – apparently he couldn't reach the shelf they were on.

Mammon told him to go get Gamma. He had a sneaking suspicion that was why Gamma looked so tired during breakfast. Yuni hovered around him, worried, and he did his best to reassure her.

Bel had gotten dressed by the time Mammon joined everyone at the table, and looked rumpled and distinctly un-princely in his striped shirt and school issued jacket and school issued black pants. Fran had slept in his clothes and seemed surprised when Gamma told him to get dressed.

"Remind me," Bel said, as they waited in the living room. Mammon was actually almost done with his homework by this point, and Bel kept glancing over like there was anything at all worth copying. They didn't have any classes together, anyway, "How you became associated with someone who can't even be on time."

"It wasn't me, it was Reborn." Mammon wondered why he bothered trying to claim distance from Skull when he was the one who kept dragging Skull into these things.

Bel looked unconvinced. Mammon crossed his legs and checked his watch.

"Maybe he'll stop for coffee," he commented, casually, "I don't think I'd mind too much."

He could see Bel wouldn't mind much either, even though Bel just rolled his eyes and leaned against the arm of the couch.

"We don't have a tie or anything?" Fran asked, coming around the corner. He'd piled a ridiculous number of hats on his head – Reborn's not among them – and was buttoning up his shirt. Yuni followed, and for a moment she seemed almost annoyed.

Then again, it was hard to call Yuni's annoyance 'annoyance'. Even though she was a little kid, she was a master at resolving conflicts in a way that made everyone happy. Or most everyone.

Mammon gave Fran his most sardonic expression as the younger boy stopped, and then abruptly turned around, almost walking right into Yuni.

She caught one of the hats as they fell from Fran's head, and then held it up to him.

"We don't have a tie," Mammon responded easily, "Our ride should be here in five minutes."

Yuni frowned, "He was supposed to be here five minutes ago."

Bel snickered, "It's Skull. He can't do anything right."

Fran did not follow any of this. Instead he called back into the hallway, as loudly as he could (which wasn't too loud – Bel had heard louder), "WHY IS MAMMON WEARING A DRESS?"

"It's a skirt," Mammon scowled, because he was wearing a black skirt instead of pants or a dress, and pantyhose underneath, "Mu."

Yuni turned to Fran, "It's okay, Fran. You don't have to wear a dress."

"Where do you want to stop for coffee, anyway?" Mammon asked, turning to Bel to waste time while Fran and Yuni argued about whether or not this was okay on any level. Yuni seemed genuinely confused. Fran seemed genuinely traumatized.

Bel shrugged.

"I don't really want to," he replied, "I still don't see why you had the presence of mind to pick up pantyhose for yourself, and put my crown on the dresser, but not enough to actually take my crown with you on your way back."

By which Mammon assumed he meant, "I want to grab my tiara before we have to go to class." At least he was grinning relatively sanely now, instead of looking like he was about to rip his own mouth in half in order to grin wider.

"Oh, I can wear a dress if you want, Fran," Byakuran was saying as Mammon turned back to the rest of the group, "If it means so much to you, we're more than happy to make you feel welcome."

"No you aren't, you weirdo child molester," Fran replied, "I don't want to see you in a dress either."

Mammon looked back up at Byakuran, "By which he means have a photo shoot in something frilly and send him the pictures. Maybe you could do a tutu."

"That is not what I meant," Fran whined, "Don't project onto me, it's gross, senior student Mammon."

Something about that response made Bel laugh again, but before Mammon had the opportunity to endure someone actually asking for clarification, the doorbell rang. Once. Twice. Several more times.

There was a pause. Mammon excused himself to head towards the door; he had made it out of the living room when Skull decided to be as obnoxious as possible. The doorbell started ringing in earnest.

"Mu~, so impatient," he grumbled, and then he was reaching the entryway and pulling open the door.

For a moment, Skull looked hopeful – like he always did, because even if life was already good at making him out to be a fool, Skull was just as eager to help it along – then crestfallen.

"Your stupid car's been taken care of," he said, leaning over to pant. Mammon wasn't sure why he'd be out of breath, even if his bike was parked by the sidewalk.

"We have three people on our end," Mammon told him, "You realize that, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" Skull seemed caught off guard nonetheless, "That's why I'm taking Gamma's car!"

"Mu," Mammon considered him, "Have you actually asked Gamma about this?"

Skull looked beseechingly past Mammon. Towards Gamma, Mammon noted, looking over his shoulder. And past Gamma, both Fran and Bel were staring at Skull doubtfully.

Something like loyalty to the loser almost twisted in his heart. Almost.

"He can borrow my car anytime," Gamma assured everyone present. He seemed somewhat put upon when he said it, though whether this was Skull or Byakuran was hard to say, "I trust him."

"You'd be the first," Bel grumbled, as he made his way past him, "Fran, we're going. Hurry up."

"Who said you got to decide when we left?" Fran grumbled, but made his way after him, purposefully not looking at Mammon.

"I did," Bel snapped back, grabbing Mammon's arm as he reached the door and dragging Mammon outside with him, "Because I'm a prince."

"Viper, why does he need so many hats?" Skull asked, following after the three of them, shortly behind Fran. He asked it a little too loud and Mammon winced. Fran was faster with a response than he was, though. (Thank god, because he wanted nothing to do with it.)

"Because they're all way better than your dumb helmet," was his less than stellar answer, "I couldn't pick which one I wanted most."

Mammon got dibs on the passenger seat only because Bel wanted to be as far away from Skull as possible. Bel waged a quiet, very short war with Fran on the seat immediately behind Mammon, and Fran lost.

No surprises.

"He's got like, twenty," Skull whined, opening the driver's side door, "Viper."

"Mu. Stop whining, Skull," Mammon told him, "Just drive."

"Why does Skull get to call you Viper if the rest of us can't?" Fran demanded, and Mammon turned to glare at him. Skull gave an empathetic meep, but Fran just stared back.

"Be quiet, brat," Bel snapped, kicking Fran's shins and Fran yelped, scooting away.

"That hurt," he grumbled, attention fully diverted, and Bel grinned at him, fiercely.

"Don't kill anyone while we're in the car, Bel," Mammon said. Skull backed out of the driveway and into the road somewhat recklessly.

"Don't kill anyone at all!" Skull yelled, "I don't want to be associated with a bunch of criminals!"

Everyone stared at him. Fran did not take the opportunity to point out that technically, Mammon and Bel were already well on their way to being criminals.

"Shut up, Skull," Mammon said, "Just drive."

Skull shut up and kept driving. Mammon leaned back in his seat and ignored that Bel and Fran were fighting in the backseat.

Occasionally, Skull looked like he was about to say something, but Mammon made a point of ignoring him. He didn't want to hear it. After a while, Fran did say something though, and it was hard to say if this was a relief or an incoming headache.

"So is Skull Viper's boyfriend then?"

"Mammon," Mammon corrected; he mostly went ignored as Bel took the liberty of hitting Fran again, and Skull sputtered something that vaguely resembled a protest.

"That hurt," Fran grumbled, "It was just a question, geeze!"

"No one cares what you have to say, stupid," Bel replied, "And Mammon's straight anyway."

"There's no point in giving out information if no one's paying for it," Mammon grumbled, and this time his response at least got a laugh from Bel, who leaned forward and propped his head on the back of Mammon's seat. His breath ruffled the top of Mammon's head and Mammon forced himself not to sink down further. That would just encourage Bel to be weird, and besides that, Bel wasn't as dangerous as he tried to make himself out to be.

Mammon just had to keep reminding himself that because Bel was really good at being a creep. Not because it was blatant denial of the facts because he needed a friend. He didn't even actually need a friend.

"So you don't care what people think about you at all?" Fran asked, apparently having a hard time believing him. Just to underline his point of I will not answer your questions if you don't give me what I want, Mammon looked over at him.

"How much do you have on you?" he asked, and Fran nodded, looking enlightened.

"I think you guys already took any money I had with me," he said instead. Mammon turned around, not dignifying that with anything other than a toneless, "Mu."

"So do you get paid to cross dress?" Fran asked. Skull snorted. Mammon wondered if Skull would ever believe him on this matter.

Like he was trying to piss Mammon off as much as possible (probably in response to the missing tiara), Bel turned to Fran. For a moment, he sounded almost like he was okay with Fran's existence.

"He says he gets paid a hundred Euros an hour," Bel said, cheerfully, "But I think he just likes being a girl."

"Mu," Mammon said, and was silent. Fran took this as agreement.

"It's okay, sempai," he said, and Skull snickered, which presented Mammon with a delightful opportunity to kick him (Mammon only hesitated for a moment before taking it), "Girl on girl is still hot."

"Mu. Belphegor, I would recommend silencing your protégé before he goes missing."

"I don't care if he goes missing," Bel replied, and kicked the back of Mammon's seat as he leaned back. Mammon made another small sound of discontent, but it went ignored, "At least then he won't be eating with us."

"He's not going to be eating with us, Bel."

"Yeah, why would I eat with you freaks? You probably talk about hacking into government files over lunch or something dumb like that."

Bel's laugh told Mammon that he didn't believe either of them. Fair enough; Mammon wasn't sure he believed himself either. After all, where else would Fran eat?

Mammon slouched down and hoped that Bel's potential wrath was enough to keep Fran from feeling welcome enough to intrude. On some level, he doubted it.

Fran was definitely the kind of person to feel more at ease when people wanted him dead, that was for sure.

"So is everyone at this school rich?" he was asking now, and looking out the window, Mammon realized that they were approaching the parking lot. Angelo Michael's Academia di Cultura was squirreled away in the middle of no where, the better to encourage intermingling between the best the best of society – or people who could manage to squirm their way in regardless of their background. It sprawled over it's surroundings like an elegant lady about to die of a delicate, deadly poison, and sometimes Mammon wondered if anyone else ever got the sense that the hordes of students (hordes here being a not very apt word, as there were only a few hundred students in attendance) were that poison, killing whatever ideology the school had slowly, from the inside out.

Not that Mammon could really ever claim to care for the ideology of the school. Skull eased into the parking lot, a shadowy blot on the other wise elegant lot (or as elegant as a parking lot could be; there were bushes along the sides of the road, and it was kept as clean as it could be, but it wasn't, exactly, an elegant piece of work).

"I don't have to sign you guys in or anything, do I?" Skull asked, and Mammon gave him his best you-are-being-a-complete-idiot look. Skull was leaning back in his seat, looking resigned to the idea, but Mammon was pretty sure his presence was unnecessary and probably even disruptive.

"I'm older than you, mu," he said, and got out of the car. Bel and Fran were getting out as well, Bel checking his watch and Fran looking around in awe. Mammon realized that no one had answered his question.

"Yes," he said, even though Fran didn't seem to care about getting an answer anymore, "Everyone at this school is rich."

He didn't wait for Fran's response, just made his way towards the school. Without a comment, Bel followed after him.


End file.
